Heart of Darkness
by DimpleCurlAeternaGirl
Summary: After a nighttime boar invasion of the fuselage, hard decisions needed to be made. Kate's personal narrative on joining Locke and Michael on a multi-purpose boar hunt afterwards only to witness the unexpected. One-Shot Based on 1x04.


Disclaimer: Lost is owned by ABC Television and was created by Jeffrey Lieber, J. J. Abrams and Damon Lindelof, produced by Bad Robot Productions. I don't own it but I love it!

" **I have always thought the actions of men the best interpreters of their thoughts." John Locke, English Philosopher 1632-1704**

It was night and people in our make-shift beach camp among the wreckage were sleeping. It's been four days since the plane crash and counting.

Vincent, Michael's dog started to bark and wouldn't stop. I could hear Michael muttering to Walt to tell the dog to be quiet, but Walt couldn't control him. I heard a plaintive, "I don't know what's wrong with him! Come on, Vincent, cut that out!"

My senses were tingling. Vincent doesn't just bark at nothing. He was the equivalent of a security alarm for our group. Normally he was playful or just watching. He's a smart canine and protective as he is being tonight. He would work well on a farm, ranch or even as a hunting dog.

Vincent's intelligence and the way he sits and watches made me think if he was properly trained, he would be the type to accompany a farmer around on his errands and maybe partner up with a horse as a companion.

Vincent isn't the "yappy" type of canine. Dogs that bark for no reason spook livestock and horses. They can cause horses to startle, rear, buck, kick and possibly throw the rider. A handler could easily getting kicked, especially in close quarters like a stall.

Being kicked or trampled by an animal that weighs 1,200 or more pounds is painful and potentially dangerous. I've seen the injuries farmers and farmhands sported. Tommy's older brother got kicked when a mare spooked in her stall. She nailed him in chest leaving a horse-shoe shaped bruise that took weeks to fade.

Smart dogs help watch the farm and protect the family and property. Yappy ones, the dogs that bark for no reason, hide nor hair will be found of them on a working farm. They are liabilities. On farms, people and animals pull their weight, not just to help the farm survive, but hopefully thrive. It's a lot of hard labor and doesn't yield a lot of surplus income.

I sat up, heeding Vincent's warning. The dog has more value to us than just a child's pet or playmate. He warned us when the thing was around the other night. Locke already awake and sitting several yards from me. He was facing the plane wreckage, observing. It's possible he already figured out why Vincent was warning us. That's when I heard a clatter and bang from the fuselage.

Several other heads popped up. I saw Sayid, Claire, Hurley, Jin and Sun sit up in their shelters or on wreckage they used as beds. They were all around me. I had been curled up. I pushed myself up and and moved to stand.

Jack sleeps a few yards away from me if he isn't at the medical tent with a patient. He ran by, his leg brushing my shoulder. He made a motion for me to stay put. I got up anyways and stood beside him. I was close enough to feel the warmth coming off his skin that was covered with a blanket moments ago, same as mine. We stood close together, sharing the remnants of the warmth in the cool of the night. We were looking at the source of a noise.

There were more banging noises along with dull thuds coming from the fuselage.

"Somebody's in there." Claire whispered behind me.

"Everyone in there is dead." Sayid responded.

"Sawyer." Jack said under his breath.

"Standing right behind you, Jackass." Sawyer responded tersely. He was behind my left shoulder. Jack looked back, saw Sawyer and didn't bother responding.

He quietly turned back and took a deep breath. Jack took out his pen-light that doctors carry in their pockets. He stepped off the wreckage, away from me and slowly moved towards the ruined fuselage.

"Jack?" I whispered, not wanting him to get too close. He wasn't armed, not even with a walking stick. That pen-light, or any light, was only going to piss something, whatever it was, off.

Sawyer stepped ahead of me too. He looked over, giving me a half-smirk when he made eye contact. He had a mega-watt flashlight, something he no doubt scavenged from the airplane. He was suggesting "Mine is bigger" by showing me that, but I wasn't impressed. This wasn't the time for immature games that required rulers. I let him pass by.

I silently made my way behind them both of them. Sawyer blocked me on purpose, not harshly, but in a motion to stay back. It irritated me a little, flashlight or not. Sawyer usually isn't involved except the hike with the transceiver. He's usually stirring the pot, making trouble. He and Jack took the lead.

Jack slowly came around to the entrance to the fuselage, an area we had started to avoid or take wide detours around for obvious reasons. The rest of the camp stayed back. I glanced over and noticed Locke approaching on the other side of the fuselage, same as we were, but without any flashlight.

We all looked in. It was dark. The banging, crunching and clattering noises were loud. There were some odd moaning and growling noises mixed in. Something was moving and it definitely was not a person. Jack stood there with his penlight and I stood back from him. I could feel Sawyer's bristling energy in front of me. We watched quietly, observing.

Sawyer ran out of patience quickly. He tried to push his way forward and said, "How 'bout I shed a little light on . . ." A grunt came from the plane. Jack tried to block Sawyer's arm and hold him back, but he turned on the lamp anyways and pushed his way in the entrance.

The lamp and moonlight had already lit up angry, feral eyes that were blue and red. There were roars and snorting. Jack backed up and whispered loudly to everyone, "Run!"

People barely had time to react when Sawyer's beacon of a light hit the creatures.

"No!" yelled Jack. He knew what was going to happen. Angry shrieks and grunts came from the plane and three large beasts with tusks came barreling out in three different directions. I screamed and bolted and the camp was thrown into chaos.

Sawyer was running too. He grabbed my arm. After several yards, he pulled me behind some plane wreckage to safety. He turned with his back to the beasts but had his right arm around my waist to protect me from a charge or pull me up in case we needed to run again. We both squatted on the ground, muscles tense. In the meantime, everyone else was still fleeing.

"Look out!" Charlie yelled. He tried to find a direction to go but everyone frantically crossed his path from all directions.

"What's happening?!" Claire cried out. Sayid had his arms around her and had her duck under some wreckage, shielding her with his body.

"Get away!" Shannon screamed shrilly at the creatures. Her screams could shatter glass. Boone found a safe wedge to hide behind and pulled her with him.

Some people fled, some hunkered down like me and Sawyer, others found makeshift weapons to defend themselves as the creatures charged including Hurley. He stood there brandishing a flipper. "Aww, crud. Now what?" He said. He tossed it and took off.

I heard Jin, holding piece of driftwood, yell orders to Sun, who stayed crouched behind him in their shelter. It was an angled piece of metal that looked like half of a pup-tent with a tarp over the top. I looked for Jack, trying to lay eyes on him. He was on the move, darting around, making sure everyone got to safety. I saw him snatch Charlie out of the path of a beast that was closing in on him.

Things got quieter as the beasts escaped. Vincent had stopped barking.

Sayid called out, "It's all right. They're gone!"

I stood and stepped away from Sawyer, who was behind me still with his arm around my waist. There was nothing inappropriate about what he did. It was protective, instinctive and quick thinking.

I just didn't like being touched more than necessary by most men, especially ones who had already shown interest in me or reminded me of someone I didn't want to think about. I made my way back to where Jack stood.

Boone and Shannon were at it again. He asked her if she was okay. They were squatted close by behind the plane wing. She had stopped the shrill screaming and was now back to the brittle attitude that she wore for some reason. "Yeah, way to go, Ace." She muttered to her brother.

I still didn't get why she had a chip on her shoulder, especially with Boone, but wasn't going to dig around in family business. Boone seemed nice enough. I'd give her the benefit of the doubt, but her attitude was hard to get past sometimes. There was a load hurt under there and we were all in survival mode. We couldn't afford to wallow with the threats around us plus the overall trauma of being there with slowly diminishing hopes of being rescued.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Charlie asked? I made my way over to Jack, who was checking out a gash on Charlie's arm from falling. Everybody had risen and were gathering together.

Locke stood alone, staring off in the directions the animals had fled. His posture was straight and confident, his head tipped back. He stood near Jack and me. "Boars." He said with an odd smile.

* * *

A small group of us stood around the infirmary tent, far from the fuselage. It was still nighttime.

"We have to get rid of the bodies." Jack said. I stood with him and Sayid as he took care of Charlie's wound.

Charlie looked concerned. "What, bury them? There's a whole bunch in there!"

Sayid didn't look enthused. "More than twenty. Digging will be difficult without shovels."

Jack continued to clean Charlie's injury. "Not bury. We have to burn them."

All three of us were surprised at that. We looked at each other. Jack caught our expressions.

Jack was puzzled at our apparent hesitance. "What?"

"They're people." I said.

Jack looked at me. I could sense his impatience with all of us. "I know they're people, Kate."

I hated to state the obvious but the 20 people in there had family, friends and we were going to burn them all together?

Sayid wasn't pleased at the suggestion. "Burning the remains . . . They deserve better than that." He spoke slowly with disdain. It went much deeper than the physical act of burning a body.

Jack looked a little frustrated. He wanted to get his point across and consensus with us. "Then what? Getting eaten by wild animals? Because that's what's gonna happen. Any bodies we bury won't stay buried for long. Look, I know it seems harsh. But that fuselage . . . in the sun, it's not about what they deserve . . ." He looked around, his eyes landing on me and his voice softened.

"They're gone. And we're not." He reasoned.

Sayid still wasn't pleased. He shook his head and looked at the ground before responding. "Jack, what you say may be true. But it's not right. For us to decide how these people are laid to rest, with no regard to their own wishes, their religions . . ."

Jack cut him off. "We don't have time to sort out everybody's God."

Charlie, who had been silently while being administered to, spoke up. "Really? Last I heard, we're positively made of time."

"Charlie . . ." I warned him. This was a serious decision for us to make and there was already tension in our small group. I had yet to sort out my own feelings but Jack was beginning to make sense. The smell. The lack of manpower and equipment to bury the bodies . . .

"What? I'm just saying . . ." Charlie tried to backpedal and explain.

Jack spoke to us all again, trying to help us understand his line of thought. "Hey, I'm not happy about it either. But the plane crashed a thousand miles off-course. They're looking for us in the wrong place. If they're even still looking. It's been four days. Nobody's coming." He looked at each of us again, trying to soften the impact of his words.

We all knew the facts, but the reality had yet to sink in with us, including me.

Sayid let Jack's words soak in. He stood in silence.

Jack continued. "In the morning, we need everybody to start collecting wood . . . dried brush . . . We're going in turn that fuselage into a furnace."

"Crematorium, you mean." I said. I knew where he was going with this and why he wanted to start so early. His eyes met mine. He nodded once.

"Wait until the sun goes down. Tomorrow night the fire will be set." He finished and walked off. Sayid did too.

I was standing there with my arms crossed. I knew exactly why he wanted to do it this way. It wasn't just to cremate the bodies since we couldn't bury them.

I could feel Charlie's look and glanced down at him. He sat in one of the airplane chairs in front of the infirmary tent. "If he's so eager to get this done, why are we waiting until tomorrow night?" He asked.

I gazed at him with a tinge of sadness for the bodies inside. It was a necessary evil. "He's hoping somebody'll see it." Charlie looked down with distaste.

That fire, the inferno, would be the largest signal fire we had made to date. Maybe they could pick it up via satellite if the rescuers didn't see it.

I took off after that to do try to salvage the night and see if I could rest anymore. I doubted it, not with the make-shift crematorium and hungry boars on my mind.

* * *

It was the fifth day. The sun was barely up and the sky was clear. I approached the dune where Sayid was diligently working. I wrung out my white shirt that I had rinsed in the ocean, dirty from the night before. I would need to wash all of my clothes during my next bath with the accumulation of grass stains, dirt and sweat. There wasn't time for that now.

Sayid was surrounded with wires, earphones, metal pieces and cords. He was reaching for a wire and was hovering over the transceiver from the cockpit, I was curious about what he was doing.

Sayid was ingenious with how he fixed the transceiver but was up to something new. He was utilizing what he could including his long fingernails, which still fascinated me. I could never get mine to grow that long without breaking them. It must be the tree climbing, or habit I had when I was young of biting them instead of using clippers.

I stood beside him as he picked up a wire and wrapped it around a cylindrical piece of piping he had attached somehow to a curved piece of metal.

"I guess I'm not the only one who didn't sleep last night." I said. I sat beside him.

He glanced over at me and went back to work. "There are better uses for my time than collecting firewood." He was displeased. He avoided the groups Jack had mobilized to collect firewood. Other volunteers had cloth tied over their noses and mouths as they stripped the fuselage of anything useful - wires, seats, baggage, or anything else that could be used in the future.

I understood why Sayid avoided helping. He doesn't agree with cremation for moral and religious reasons. I get it. Some people believe in burying people the same day and no embalming. Some believed in cremation. Some would have wanted a modern type funeral. There were different rites depending on the country, religion and location, but there was no way to honor all of their wishes with our lack of resources and time here. Jack was right. Sayid was right too, but we had to be practical.

Life is for the living. We need to survive on the beach without fear of the decay and stench attracting bigger and more dangerous animals.

I sat with Sayid silently a few moments. "You don't agree with Jack." Sayid said nothing in response. He didn't want to discuss it, which was no skin off my nose.

I shifted gears. "What're you making?" I asked instead, nodding at the contraption in his hands.

"Too soon to talk about. Not sure if it'll even work." Sayid commented. I could see he was trying to bury his emotions into his work.

I looked over what he was doing between the transceiver, pipe, and metal piece with the wiring. It made me think of a miniature satellite on a pole, but not round. "You're trying to pick up the signal, aren't you? The one we heard on the transceiver?"

Sayid rewarded me with a smile when I figured it out. He continued to talk, gaining energy and enthusiasm. He held a makeshift tool in his hand that looked like a small piece of metal turned into a flathead micro-tool. "If the French woman's transmissions have truly been playing on a loop for sixteen years, then there must be a power source on this island. A significant one." His sullen mood dissipated and eyes lit up.

I was surprised at his answer. That went way beyond what I was thinking. "You can find it?"

"Hypothetically . . . yes." He shared another smile. Sayid began to point out parts to me and what he was constructing. I felt privileged that he would share his idea with me. To me, it was a gesture of trust on his part to confide in me.

"I'm making an antenna, of sorts. With a few of these mounted at different points on the island, I may be able to use the transceiver to triangulate the signal. Find out where it's coming from." He looked at me, eyes bright. His enthusiasm was contagious. I believe in Sayid. If anyone could pull off inventing something to find the tower out of this pile of airplane wreckage, he could.

"What can I do to help" I asked sincerely. He was working on his own to get us rescued without help or support. No matter what Jack or the pilot said about our being 1,000 miles off course, Sayid still had hope. He was showing it through his efforts using his talented brain and hands. His work was just as important as the fire tonight, maybe even more.

"This is only a prototype. Testing it now may be premature." He warned.

I smiled a little. "Then it's a good thing I test well." He knew I could hike. I don't know where he needed it, but I could scale trees too.

Sayid eyed me with his dark, soul-searching eyes for a moment and smiled. Then he reiterated something he said before our hike with the transceiver. "It appears you're as anxious to get off this island as I am." I looked at him carefully, then away.

I am. I'm not free like I thought I was after the cuffs were off and marshal died.

I am trapped on a penal colony that should be named Monster Island where a gigantic thing kills and skins people, carnivorous polar bears attack us, and boars eat people, at least ones that aren't alive.

I didn't want to die here and be a meal to whatever killed off the French woman's companions.

* * *

A fight that had erupted between Sawyer and Hurley. It involved a lot of name calling on Sawyer's part. Hurley was angry at Sawyer and trying to get his hands on a backpack Sawyer held onto. About fifteen people surrounded them but did nothing to intervene. They were arguing over food. Apparently, the backpack contained peanuts.

I saw them at a distance and hurried to try to stop the fight. Jack and Sayid arrived ahead of me. I saw Boone try to do the same before I reached there and was concerned at his ability to deescalate things, especially with how he handled Shannon. They were good at pushing each others buttons.

"Okay, guys, knock it off. C'mon." Boone reasoned.

"Stay outta this, Metro." Sawyer growled at him. Boone backed off immediately.

Boone had the right intentions and enthusiasm to help, but, as I had already learned, lacked the life experience and skill to make things happen. It could be taught, but not this way.

A rich, sheltered youth shouldn't just jump in between two men who could snap him like a twig. That was common sense.

I wouldn't jump in a pen with one angry bull much less two. I'd be an idiot and be lucky to get out without being gored or worse. You have to know your strengths and weaknesses. Breaking up fights and handling guns weren't Boone's strengths.

Jack quickly stepped in between them. The white cloth that was covering his mouth and nose was pulled down around his neck. "What's going on?" His voice was raised. Sawyer stopped. He saw Sayid and I push past the onlookers to stop the spectacle and sort out what was wrong. Sayid joined Jack and stood in between the two men.

Hurley pointed at Sawyer. "Jethro here is hoarding the last of the bags of peanuts!"

Sawyer gave him a dirty look. "It's my own stash. Found 'em in there." He was so angry that his voice shook.

Jack looked at Hurley. "What about the rest of the food?" Hurley had done a good job at distributing what was left from the food carts so far.

"There is no rest of the food, dude." Hurley answered. "It's gone. We kinda . . . ate it all."

Around us, the survivors started to murmur in panic. "No food?" I heard it repeated and people started to look scared. I looked at Sayid and at Jack. We needed to maintain order before more people jumped Sawyer. Food was essential to survival.

Jack stood on some wreckage and Sayid joined him. I stood closer to Hurley and Sawyer to dissuade them from fighting any further. Jack spoke loudly. "Okay, everybody! Calm down!"

Sayid, who had already proven himself to all as a good leader and organizer spoke quickly with encouragement. "We can find food. There are plenty of things on this island to sustain us."

I watched Sawyer carefully. He decided to sit on a row of detached airplane seats and listen instead of engaging with Hurley further. He couldn't resist speaking up. "Oh yeah? And exactly how are we gonna get this sustenance?"

THWACK! I flinched as a large bowie knife flew past me, missing my torso by two feet as it flew by. It was embedded in the seat next to Sawyer. It was a perfect throw. I looked over at the source, as did the rest of the group. Jack visually looked me over first, the knife, then at Locke.

Locke. "We hunt." He said.

Silence fell over everyone. He spoke in an authoritative tone, his legs apart and back straight. I knew there was more to him than met the eye, between his confidence and almost cheer at being on the island. I crossed my arms, feeling a little vulnerable about the knife stunt. I was glad I was standing still, not moving forward or gesturing.

I looked at the size of the knife and back him. There was no way he brought that on as a carry-on. I stepped towards him. "How did you get that knife on the plane?"

Locke eyed me for a moment, then shrugged. "I checked it."

Jack pulled the knife out of the seat and examined it. I wondered if he was tempted to keep it. Instead, he offered it back to Locke, hilt out. I could see Jack sizing Locke up.

"Either you've got good aim. . ." He looked back at Sawyer, "Or bad aim, Mr. . . ." I wonder if Jack was trying to assess him psychologically. I would. He was smiling at me with that damn orange peel in his mouth while I was removing the hiking boots off that poor dead lady the day we went to retrieve the transceiver.

Michael spoke up. "Locke. His name is Locke." Michael said with an undertone of hostility. There was a negative energy radiating from Michael. I knew he wasn't a fan of Locke's with the way he tried to keep Walt away from him. I didn't understand it yet. Locke didn't talk to many people, mainly just Walt, a ten-year old boy. I suppose that in itself looked odd but didn't have enough information to make a judgement call.

"Okay. So, what is it we're hunting, Mr. Locke?" Jack asked, testing him.

Locke confidently spoke and began to describe the quarry. "We know there are wild boar on the island. Razorbacks by the look of them. The ones who came into camp last night were piglets... A hundred, hundred and fifty pounds each. That means there's a mother nearby. A two-hundred and fifty-pound rat with scimitar-like tusks and a surly disposition, who'd love nothing more than to eviscerate anything that comes near her . . ."

I listened, not expecting that much expert information from Locke, who was dressed in a short-sleeved, white button down and nice, chino pants and slip-on leather shoes. From what I could tell, Locke knew what he was talking about.

I had been out camping, hiking and hunting with my Dad, but not hunting boar. Dad hunted deer, turkey, quail, even small animals like rabbit and squirrel if deer and turkey were off season. Boar was foreign to me.

Jack watched him too, weighing his words, but his posture was tense.

Locke continued, not taking a break or noticing. "Boars' usual mode of attack are to circle around their prey, charge from behind. So, I figure it'll take at least three of us to flank one of the piglets, distract it just long enough for me to pin it and slit its throat."

Everybody looked stunned. Sawyer looked at Jack with a sardonic expression. "And you just had to give him his knife back."

Jack shrugged. "If you've got a better idea . . ."

Sawyer shook his head. "Better than three of y'all wandering into the magic forest to bag us a hunk 'o ham armed with one itty bitty knife? Hell no! That's the best idea I ever heard!" Sawyer was behind Jack, his ego still smarting from the knife being thrown next to him plus Jack's comment about Locke's aim. The corner of Jack's mouth turned up before he looked back at Locke.

Locke stood in front of us next to a silver case. With the something akin to a smirk, he kicked open the lid and turned it around. It was an expensive case and loaded. The top and bottom of the were filled over half a dozen large hunting knives with custom, foam cut-outs. They were pristine and gleamed in the sunlight. There were other knives of various shapes and sizes, hunting gear, fishing line, a snake bite kit and more in pouches that were sealed.

Jack, Sayid and me plus the rest of the group stood with our mouths agape.

Hurley stood behind Sayid and Jack. "Who is this guy?" He whispered.

* * *

We made preparations for the hunt. I volunteered to go. Of all people, Michael offered to go too. I was surprised. He was from New York City. He seemed to have another motive for volunteering. I hadn't hunted boar but I had outdoor experience including tracking, and, of course, running and climbing. I could shoot too but no gun or bullets. My concern about anyone's level of experience revolved around the safety of the hunting party members.

Locke made no comment, just agreed with my offer to join him. He gave me a large knife and sheath to secure it in my belt. I looked over it carefully first. It was sharp enough to cut hair, deadly, but just the right size for me to handle. It was in mint condition and looked like it had never been used.

"So, you're hunting boars now, huh?" I turned and saw Jack. I gave him a hint of a smile, glad that he returned from his undesirable task. I walked towards the medical tent. He walked beside me, his concern tangible. I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his questions.

"Who says this is my first-time boar hunting." I asked pertly.

"Uh huh." He stepped close to me. "Kate, tell me something. How come anytime there's a hike into the heart of darkness, you sign up? You know what's in there." His brows came together softly as he looked down at me and I looked up at him.

I thought for a moment. "Actually, I don't. You don't either." I bit my bottom lip and thought, eyes wide. The thing, the monster. I had forgot it for a moment. "But at least I have some experience, right?" I responded. I had made it in and out twice before including an overnight with a small groups intact.

This hunt wasn't about me necessarily, same as the others.

The first trek was to accompany Jack. I didn't want him to go alone to get the transceiver and knew where to take him. Charlie tagged along.

The second one was with Sayid, who had fixed the transceiver. He, our misfit group and I climbed to up into the mountains get a signal, camped overnight and made it back without injury or loss.

This was the third one. It was a hunt for boar to feed everyone since the food was gone. We had 47 people to feed including a pregnant girl. I also had a favor to do for a friend.

Few people would know what to do or be able follow Locke's lead. I did and was also less threatening to Locke. I might be able to get him to talk some.

We didn't need to risk our only doctor, Jack, who didn't have hunting or tracking skills as far as I could tell. I considered myself to be expendable versus Jack or Sayid.

Jack smiled at me. He didn't fight me going this time. I felt that his confidence in me had increased since the last trip, despite any reservations he had. He was unpacking remaining medications and medical supplies from his backpack he and others gathered from the fuselage. It was going to be torched tonight.

Jack glanced over at Locke, who was filling his vest with items from his suitcase after sheathing knives in his leather belt. Then he turned his attention back at me, looking at me carefully. "So, what's your feel on our new friend?" He asked.

I raised a brow, watching Locke, who seemed oblivious about our interest in him. "Seems to know what he's doing." I commented. He did and I had a feeling he knew a lot more than about boar hunting when it came to the great outdoors. Up until now, he hadn't been very social with the exception of Walt. He was a big enigma.

Jack frowned slightly. "Call me paranoid, but anyone who packs a suitcase full of knives . . ." He shook his head.

I smiled up at him half-joking. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were worried about me, Jack."

Jack looked into my eyes, trying to read me. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you've got a problem staying in one place very long, Kate." I didn't respond, just looked at him. I wasn't going to have that conversation with him about my running over the years and what preceded that back to my childhood. Not now. "You wanna tell me why you're really going?"

I sighed. I was busted. I took my backpack and scanned the area, making sure we were far enough that nobody could see us. I let him see inside, revealing Sayid's antenna he had been working on.

I spoke in a low tone since it was confidential. Sayid didn't want to get anyone's hopes up since it was a test. "Sayid gave me this so he can triangulate the distress signal we heard and find the source."

Jack's eyes lit up. "So, this isn't about boars?"

I shook my head as I zipped up my bag, refastened the clip and hosted it on my back. I didn't tell Jack, but I was nervous about hunting wild boar. My experience with wild boar was watching "Old Yeller." I remembered how a pack of wild boars eviscerated the poor dog, the mom had to sew his stomach up, then he got rabies before he was put down.

I tried to appear brave, giving Jack a last smile.

"What can I say? I'm a vegetarian." I moved, ready to go. Jack gave me a look; a Jack smile I hadn't seen before. It made something uncoil in my stomach. He paused and was watching me. His warm, dark eyes and expression communicated appreciation and something much deeper. He had a sensual smile, his mouth parted slightly as he watched me. It threw me off guard. I hadn't seen that look from Jack before. I mentally sighed and headed over to Locke. We had work to do.

I was going boar hunting and tree climbing to mount Sayid's device.

Jack and his volunteers had a fuselage to empty of usable items before loading it with dry brush and wood for tonight.

* * *

It was afternoon. I had been following Locke, watching him as he read the tracks. I read them too, learning silently from him. Michael brought up the rear. He had no experience and was green as he could be.

The only thing he had going for him was Locke was with us and the fact he had a knife in his belt. I admired his bravery in going, despite this being his first time hunting. I still felt his motive was not catching boar, but if he could help, that's all that mattered.

Locke gestured to a large tree trunk. The bark was rubbed off. Locke felt the grooves in the trunk while squatting next to the tree. He then tested the loose soil next to it with his knife. Michael and I stood behind him during this.

The humidity was terrible. Michael and I were drenched with sweat but I refused to take off my thin, long-sleeved shirts because of bugs or mosquitos. I don't know if there was malaria in this tropical hell and was trying to protect my skin. My long, curly hair was tied back at the nape of my neck. Perspiration ran down my legs under my baggy jeans and felt disgusting.

I took a step towards Locke. "Find something?" I asked. I was wanting to learn. Locke's eyes examined mine. He saw this and seemed pleased, even though he didn't smile.

He gestured. "The ground here has been rooted up. That's how boars get the majority of their food, from digging. Afterwards, they generally wallow in the dirt. Cools their skin off. They rub up against trees with their tusks to score them." He gestured to the tree scars.

The boars used trees to sharpen and clean their tusks.

That was just great. I'm glad I didn't have to slit the boar's throat.

Michael looked confused. "O-kay. So, what does all of that mean?" He asked.

Locke gave him a cursory glance. "Means we're close." I had a feeling Locke was weighing our abilities in addition to hunting. Weigh on, Locke, I thought. He wasn't the only person with outdoor skills.

Michael pursed his lips, looking a bit surly.

Locke moved off. I fell in step with him right away. "Mr. Locke, how is it that you . . .?" I paused and smiled. "Sorry, do you have a first name?" I asked, not wanting to forget basic courtesies like Jack and I did on Day 1.

"It's John." He said, his eyes not leaving the trail.

"John Locke. Like the philosopher?" I asked. I grinned involuntarily.

Locked turned and eyed me appreciatively with a grin on his face too. "Like the philosopher." He echoed, confirming it.

I searched my memory for a quote. "Good and evil, reward and punishment, are the only motives to a rational creature." Locke and Michael were staring at me. I suddenly felt self-conscious. I tried to explain. "Minored in college."

Michael wasn't impressed but it wasn't directed at me. It was being out here in the jungle, the oppressive heat, and the tension between him and Locke, mainly on Michael's end. I think Locke was aware of but ignored it. Things like tension were like a scent in the air to me. I picked up it easily. "Great! And I got an art degree." Michael blurted out. He looked around and asked ironically. "Who says higher education doesn't prepare you for the real world?"

I didn't answer him. It was a rhetorical question. I was focused on Locke and genuinely curious about him. "And where'd you learn all this stuff, John? Tracking, hunting . . .?"

Locke regarded me for a moment before answering. "Well, let's just say I've had time to minor in a few things myself." He continued on and I stayed a few steps behind. Michael kept up with me as I considered Locke's comments.

Michael spoke cynically under his breath. He was so quietly I could barely hear him, much less Locke. "Huh. 'International Man of Mystery.'"

We continued to trail after the boar. I spoke quietly. "Michael. Your son, how is he handling this?" Michael was walking adjacent to me at that point.

Michael spoke frankly. "Hell of a lot better than I am."

"You must be proud. He's a brave kid." I commented. I had seen how Michael was and Walt seemed to like it here, as strange as it may sound. He was doing okay between playing with his dog, talking to people and trying to find things to do. Kids were resilient.

If I landed there with my Dad in the same situation, I think I'd have a much easier time adapting. The realities of being rescued or not and the future wouldn't be weighing on me if I was 10. I would be trying to find ways to amuse myself and climbing trees. I'd probably getting scolded for sneaking in the jungle to get mangos or papaya, just because I could, or stealing off to swim in the ocean.

"Yeah. Can't take credit for that." Michael confessed. "I wasn't part of his life, 'til his mother passed away. Two weeks ago."

Good Lord. I paused and frowned, putting my hand on his arm briefly. "I'm sorry. I didn't know." That was bad. Poor Walt.

Michael stopped me, his voice kinder. "That's okay. They were living in Sydney the past couple of years. I flew out last week. To, y'know . . . get him." He sighed. Then he looked at me. "What were you doing in Australia?"

My eyes widened, but I was saved from having to evade the answer or lie, something I didn't want to do. A rumbling noise sounded nearby.

"Shhhh!" Locke stopped ahead of us. We halted. There was field of tall grass ahead of us. It was a different one, but the same height that the polar bear ran through to charge at our small group a few days prior. Locke approached a tree first and silently traced the large scoring marks for our benefit. He nodded and gestured for me and Michael to follow him. We quietly descended a slope of high grasses and plants. Roots were ahead at the bottom and visibility was low.

We looked all around. I put my hand on the knife secured to my belt. Locke looked back and gestured that we should unsheathe our knives. We took them out and waited.

"It's right there." Locke whispered so softly I barely heard it. Sure enough, we saw dark fur through the grass. It was a boar moving along, grunting, snorting and the stench of it was worse than a pig farm. It had to be close.

Locke quickly faced us and made hand gestures to signal for each of us to flank the boar. I moved up close to Locke to follow his lead. Locke tapped my shoulder and gestured for me to continue straight on. He gestured the other direction, signing to Michael behind my back as I began to move.

Michael resisted, wanting to challenge Locke's authority. Now wasn't the time. He angrily whispered to Locke over one of his gestures "Quit giving us the steal sign! Damn pig doesn't even know we're . . ."

A loud snort resounded as the boar heard him. Something began to explode from the tall grass. It was huge, a mass of fur and tusk charging at us. Locke grabbed me bodily, snatching me directly out of the path of the approaching boar. He probably saved my legs, maybe my life.

It side-swiped Locke instead and sent him to the ground. I rolled away from him, grabbing my knife. I was on my hands and knees, my face stinging badly. I put my palm to my right cheek. It came away streaked with a wide patch of blood. The skin had been scratched badly.

The boar spun around and charged at Michael next. It hit him hard in the leg and he groaned in pain. Locke was still down and Michael was bleeding.

I still heard the grunting and snorting around us but crawled over to Michael first after glancing at Locke. He didn't appear to have any superficial injuries.

The boar was still snarling. I tried to be quick.

Michael was hurting. I took a look at it his leg. His pants were torn and he had a deep gash across his right thigh. I sucked in my breath and looked at him. I put my hand on his shoulder and made eye contact, wanting to check on Locke quickly and get his help. "It's bad." I said.

Locke was on his elbow looking at his leg. He appeared uninjured but a little dazed. I stood and looked around. I moved toward John, concerned. "John?" I was hoping he didn't have a head injury or something I couldn't see. I couldn't haul them both to camp or leave them to the boar to attack again. I'd have to stay and protect them both.

I stooped and kneeled next to John. He was clutching his large bowie knife. Considering his glazed look, I stayed just out of arm's reach for the moment. "Are you okay?" I asked. "Locke?" I was worried.

John waived me off. "Fine. I'm fine, Helen." I frowned a little at that. He starts to move his legs and slowly rose to his feet. "Just got the wind knocked out of me. What?" He asked, seeing my face. I was still worried but confused why he called me Helen. Was he really okay?

"Helen? You called me Helen." I said.

He glanced at me, distracted. "Did I?" He changed the subject quickly. He was back on his feet and testing his limbs. No injuries. "Which way did the boar go?" He asked me.

"Un uh. No, John, Michael's hurt. We've got to get him back." I told him. He didn't even look at Michael. He was so fixated on the boar.

"Yeah, of course. You take him back to camp. I'll get the boar." He said dismissively. He told us it would take three to get the boar.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. That wasn't the strategy he laid out. I tended to Michael's wounds. The best I could do was have him rip off one of his long sleeves to make a type of tourniquet. It would stop the bleeding and help support him as he walked. He groaned in pain but let me minister to him.

"I'm fine. I can do it." Locke told me firmly. He stalked off before I could make any move to stop him, not even to help assess Michael's leg. I took a few steps calling after him.

"John, wait! You can't! Locke!" I called after him. I was distressed over Michael's injury and Locke's state of mind.

By then, he was gone, muttering to himself on the way. I heard him say, "Don't tell me what I can't do!" Either he was crazy, driven, or that boar knocked any good sense of that man's head.

I looked at Michael who looked up at me with an expression that suggested Locke was crazy.

* * *

I had Michael lean on me like a crutch. Thankfully flat ground and gradual slopes were greeting us on the way back. I was slowly getting to know Michael on this trip. Despite his aggravation with Locke, I found myself liking him. He was a good person and seemed down-to-earth. It sounded like he had some bad breaks in life. Didn't we all? I thought.

I was thinking about the others I had met so far. A lot of people I was getting to know seemed to not only have issues, but were dealing with it alone.

Michael was upset with his deceased ex-girlfriend taking his son away as an infant and not telling Walt about him. Not only was he a new Dad, but his 10 year-old didn't know anything about him. He had to forge a brand new relationship as a person and authority figure. That explained his discomfort and coming down on Walt. He was figuring out how to parent him.

He was trying to put it aside any past anger with his ex to be a full-time father to a 10-year-old he didn't really know either. I respected him for that. Despite my circumstances, I wouldn't want to change places at the moment.

We made it to a small clearing. I suddenly stopped and looked at a nearby tree. "Wait a minute." I told Michael.

Michael wasn't upset. He stopped and commented. "The guy with the gimpy leg should be deciding when we rest." He gave me a friendly smile. Michael did need a break. He was short of breath, leaning against another tree. I took off my bag and white over shirt, then my belt.

Michael frowned, watching me divest myself of the items. "What are you doing?" He asked. He looked ready to protest as I unbuckled my belt. I buckled it again after taking off the sheathed knife and tossed it with my gear. I glanced at him, amused at his wanting to protest me taking off more. It showed decency on his part. I wasn't going to strip.

I slung the back pack over my shoulder and was ready to scale the tree. I had already seen where I was going to put it. There were plenty of strong branches to scale. I had spotted the area I was going to bungee Sayid's invention to hold it. "Trying to boost the transceiver signal. I'm gonna climb this tree and attach an antenna." I explained.

Michael looked up and up. It was a very tall tree but had to be for it to work. "You're gonna climb that?" He asked in disbelief. Despite his look, he limped over to give me a boost and sat afterwards to watch. I could hear him trying to stifle the moans of pain.

"I climbed a lot worse than this." I told him. I smiled to myself. He had no idea how high I could scale with fewer branches than this. This was nothing. I got a good grip on the tree and started to rapidly ascend it.

I used outcroppings from the trunk at the bottom, then branches, even places where branches had broken off, until I reached the apex, a place where the tree forked. That's where I wanted to place Sayid's invention. It was near the top. The branches were thinning out at this height and a nice, cool breeze blew, drying my damp skin. I had a great, open view of the valley and jungle below. I took the antenna out with one hand. The device was pressed against the upright tree branch with my right hand while the bungee was in my mouth.

I was ready to wind the cord and secure the device.

Then I heard it. My whole body froze. It was that ungodly wailing and roaring. It frightened me. My hands were suddenly sweaty and shaking. I lost my grip on the antenna, but didn't look down as it plummeted to the ground. I looked out at the jungle where we had come from. Trees were bending rapidly and violently. Something very large was making its way directly towards a target.

I heard Michael far below. "Aw, hell!"

It was back. The thing. That huge, ravenous thing that killed the pilot, broke his bones, skinned and left him dangling in a tree 3 stories high. My eyes were riveted on the path of the monster. We had just been there . . .

"Hey!" Michael yelled up at me. "You hear that?"

"It's on the move!" I called down.

"What?" Michael asked, suddenly fearful. "Towards us?"

"No. It's going that way towards . . ." I pointed since he couldn't see. I stopped.

I watched it make its way through the trees, it's path unmistakable. A sick feeling filled my stomach.

"What's wrong?" Michael called up.

I swallowed. "Locke." I whispered.

I called down to Michael. "I think it's headed for Locke!"

* * *

With a heavy heart, I helped Michael back to the beach. We emerged, filthy and bloody from the jungle. Hurley came running at us. He was a good sight to see. Our progress had slowed to a snail's pace and my shoulder ached. Michael was a strong man, solidly built and heavy. He needed more support than my thin shoulders.

"Watch his leg." I instructed as I turned him over to Hurley, giving him a grateful look.

I heard his son's voice. "Dad!" Walt yelled. He was sitting with Sun. She was utilizing pans and trays from the plane for plants she had been gathering. If I had time, I would sit with her another day try to figure out what she was collecting.

Walt stood and bolted, planting himself in front of Michael. "Dad!"

Michael patted his head. "Hey!" He said cheerily, smiling bravely to cover up his agony.

"Your leg's all messed up. Does it hurt?" Walt asked. I crossed over in front and ahead of them.

I felt sick over Locke, over the broken pieces in my bag left from Sayid's hard work, but mainly Locke. That half-crazed man just walked off into the jungle and I let him. I let him go alone, knowing what was out there and a big knife wasn't going to save him. I didn't even warn him. I don't know if it would have stopped him. He was a man possessed but I still felt responsible. I was swimming in guilt. That was in addition to the broken pieces in my backpack.

Sawyer was there to greet me, smiling. He almost sounded congenial, but I was mostly upset with myself. "The mighty huntress returns." He smiled, showing his dimples for me. "What's for dinner honey?"

I walked by him without looking. "Not now, Sawyer." I caught a look of chagrin from him. Not my problem. Not today. I already messed up and lost someone.

I first went to Sayid with a heavy heart. I passed the shattered remains of his hard work into his cupped hands.

"I'm sorry." I paused, looking at him. It was a bad joke, but I tried to add levity. "I should have gotten the warranty."

To say Sayid wasn't pleased would be an understatement. He was discouraged and upset. "I supposed I will just try again." His frustration was building. "Of course, I have no welding iron, no rivets, scorched wiring. . .and of course, I must continue to lie to anyone who asks me what I'm actually doing. . ." He threw down the shattered pieces into the sand.

I was devastated. I was the one who fumbled and dropped it. I couldn't help what happened and the timing, but couldn't explain to him yet, about the thing heading towards Locke.

I swallowed and looked at him. "Sayid. . ." I started to say, ready to apologize for mishandling his invention. I hated myself for what I did. I looked at him, my face remorseful.

Sayid stopped. He looked at me and his face softened. "Sorry. He said." He forced a smile. "I'm cranky when I'm hungry."

I looked into his eyes, forcing a smile too. "We'll try it again." I gripped his upper arm briefly to encourage him and squeezed it softly.

Sayid nodded. "We'll try it again," agreeing. I nodded too. We shared a warm look and smile.

A serious thought crossed my mind. "Do you really think it will work?" I stared into his dark eyes, questioning. I knew he would tell me the truth.

Sayid straightened his posture. He was committed. "I will make it work." He said. I believe him.

I was ready to walk away. "Kate!" I heard someone calling out for me and footsteps hurrying to catch up. I stopped. "Kate!" I turned as Jack approached us.

"Hey." I said.

Sayid glanced at me. "Excuse me." He nodded to Jack and left.

Jack's looked relieved. He smiled at me and hurried over. He then frowned. His attention immediately went to the bloody scrapes on my cheek. They burned and I had a feeling they were going to look like a matched set compared to his.

His long fingers and hands gently touched both sides my small face and cupped it. One finger touched the scratch gently and I winced. It was professional, but more . . . prolonged. He turned his face to look at his and looked into my eyes, His were a pool of brown worry and concern. The green from the jungle behind me gave them a hazel cast.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly?

I gave him an ironic, downturned smile. "Is this where you say 'I told you so?" I felt his hand caress my other cheek intentionally or not before putting his hands down.

"I'm not big on rubbing it in." He said in that voice, the soft one that drew me in. We stood closely. Too closely facing each other, me looking up at him, him down at me. I could smell his scent.

Then the past hour flooded through my mind. It sobered me. He started to move to my side but I gripped his arm.

"Locke's gone, Jack. That thing . . . I think it got him." I looked downwards, then up at him, my eyes a mixture of fear, guilt and sorrow.

Jack absorbed this for a few moments and shook his head. He looked away and faced the ocean for a minute. My hand was still on his arm. He didn't go anywhere and turned to face me instead.

I let go. I noticed activity far off to my left. The sun was going to set soon. "What's going on?" I asked.

Jack glanced that way and back at my face. "The fuselage is ready to go. Some of the others decided to... I guess some words are gonna be said . . . over the fire . . . Names read, I think . . ."

"That's good. I just don't think they're ready to hear about some of the things that just happened." I commented soberly. Jack didn't sound right, like he wasn't going to participate. Something was bothering him about this.

It was his idea, but he wasn't himself. He was so close I could read him and his body language easily. He was tense, upset and distracted.

"Yeah." Jack said. He sounded a million miles away. I swallowed once more to keep the bile down. I had stopped talking.

Suddenly, Jack was staring at something right past me. He looked white, as if he had seen a ghost.

"What?" I asked.

Jack took off and passed me. He sprinted into the jungle entrance I had just emerged from. I turned and was right on his heels. "Jack?" I asked. What did he see? "Jack?!"

Jack stopped short. He looked all around like he was pursuing something. A large form emerged from the brush. Jack still looked around.

Jack and I stood together and looked at what emerged from the trees.

It was Locke. His brow and arms had blood dripping down them and his leather belt was fastened around the neck of a dead boar he had been hauling. He dragged it forward and dropped it in front of us. The carcass laid on the ground, splayed at our feet. The initial look on his face was indescribable. It was like he didn't recognize us.

"Locke." Jack said with some relief, but it sounded false to me. I glanced at him. His smile wasn't genuine either. Something else spooked Jack.

I stood still for several moments, sure Locke was a dead man, yet here he stood. I looked at the dead boar, then back Locke's, who was panting. His face was flushed from the glory of the kill and something else. What else Locke see?

* * *

It was nighttime. Locke had assistance from a few volunteers. He drained the boar by hanging it from a tree. Its throat was already slit and he made sure it was completely exsanguinated. He then skinned it and instructed a few people on how to take strong branches, straight like poles, cross them, tie them with wire, and when the boar was gutted and prepared, he ran a straight, skinned branch sharpened on one end like a spear through mouth to end, staking it and hung it between the forks of the fastened poles on opposite ends of the fire. It dangled over a large campfire to cook. People would eat tonight.

The survivors looked on gratefully and congratulated him. He just nodded as he did his work. He was more pleased more with himself than any outside of his lone accomplishment and didn't talk much.

It was getting dark. The boar cooked as the fuselage was lit. Claire was reading off names from a pile of identification she had come up with along with other volunteers after making sure none of the owners were among the 47 of us on the beach.

I stood near the back. I was tired and strung out after the day's events. The monster came right for Locke yet here he was. I was chilled a bit. I had to bathe after emerging, filthy with mud, grass stains and blood from the jungle. The salt water stung like hell on my face and a few other minor wounds and scratches I didn't notice.

Charlie came up beside me. His black hoodie was on. I noticed the medical tape on his fingers. It was getting dirty again. His letters in black Sharpie changed from F-A-T-E to "L-A-T-E." He was quiet for once and had that black hood over his head. The L-A-T-E maybe was about the lack of rescue boats.

The names continued to be read off. Some may were passengers ripped off the plane. I closed my eyes for a moment. No! I wasn't going to think about their demise.

Here we were, standing miracles, saying goodbye to the unlucky ones. We watched the burning piece of wreckage while listening Claire's sweet voice read off names and any personal details she had picked up from their personal effects.

The fire was an inferno. I could feel the heat of it from the back of the group. I didn't know how the others could stand anywhere close to it and it wasn't just the heat and ashes that concerned me. Any smell from it would haunt me forever.

If there was any ship nearby or satellite trained on the area, surely they could see it. Right?

I couldn't focus on the names and descriptions. I was thinking about the day, the monster, Sayid's antenna I dropped and broke, the thing moving towards Locke, Michael's injury, Locke reappearing, Jack's fingers lingering on my face and chin as he looked at my injury. . . Jack.

Jack was pale as a ghost after that. That was before Locke showed up. Where was Jack?

I frowned and began to look around. I scanned the assembly, worried. I never asked Jack what he had seen before Locke came in dragging that carcass. He gave a fake smile and greeting. I felt a stab of guilt. Jack took care of all of us. I neglected to ask him what was wrong with him with Locke's shocking arrival.

I leaned over to Charlie. "Have you seen Jack?" I whispered. I needed to find him.

Charlie only shrugged. Either he was really into this memorial or was mentally elsewhere.

I looked around for Jack. I couldn't call out, just hoped I would find him somewhere. I had a feeling that something was wrong and now felt it stronger than before. He looked troubled when he looked at the jungle before running towards it. He saw something and I think it scared him.

I turned around completely, scanning the beach behind me. The flames in the fuselage lit up the camp as if it were daylight.

Far beyond that, in the shadows, I spotted the silhouette of a man sitting far away down the beach, facing the waves. The only way I could see him was the moonlight tracing his outline on the shore.

Sayid wasn't around either but it wasn't him. The legs stretched out in front of the man were too long. It was Jack.

I bit my thumb pad, tapping my fingernail against my teeth, promising myself to approach him as soon as this broke up.

I just wanted to ask him if he was okay, read his face and eyes to see if he was or not and if he wanted to talk.

Based on the space he put between himself and everyone else, I was unsure if he wanted company.

I faced the inferno again wishing for the goodbyes end so I could get back to the living.


End file.
